


Coming Home

by red2007



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Post-Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, Pregnant Dana Scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-16 18:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red2007/pseuds/red2007
Summary: Post Season 11. My prompt was from Valerie for an Easter-themed family fic w/MSR baby #2 and Jackson/William as a family. Possibly quite less the Easter “themed”.





	1. Nocturnal Reflections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyouryokusenshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyouryokusenshi/gifts).



> A HUGE thanks to Laia (@AweburnPhoenix) who corrected more tense discrepancies than I cared to even count and Lindsay (@Lindsay_Bionic3) both of whom beta’d this whole thing at the last minute. Also, to Valerie who unknowingly offered to beta her own fic 😉 And to Nicole (@gaycrouton) for spearheading this so excellently.  
> Heads up, here there be angst, but not too much. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or these characters, but I bet I treat them better than Fox and CC did. Not to mention, "I do it for free, babe".

The first time it happened she passed it off as one of her weird pregnancy dreams. They had been all across the emotional spectrum, some waking her in a cold sweat with fear while others plagued on the grief she was still quietly wrestling with after losing William months before. So, when Scully woke up this night, a fierce headache emanating from her temples, it felt par for the course. She felt the bedding rustle next to her followed by a strong and steady hand at her back.

“Hey,” a groggy Mulder wondered, pulling himself up next to her. He began a slow circular motion with the hand at her lower back. Sleep dripped from his words as he asked, “is everything okay?”

She gave him a half smile, leaning her head to rest on his shoulder. They’d been on edge at every turn of this pregnancy. After their tumultuous beginning and the sorrow that followed, they were sensitive to everything, afraid the stress and her age would cause them to lose another child. “Just another dream. I’m fine,” she reassured him raising a hand to her forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?” He wondered. He could see the stress in the creases at her forehead as she tried to massage the headache away. He worried about her, at all hours of the day. This baby had been such a shock, watching his son die and knowing how difficult her pregnancy could be—anxiety had become just part of their daily routine. He looked down at her now, eight months pregnant, wondering when he’d ever stop worrying.

She tilted her head, giving him a weary smile, patting his chest. “I’m fine. I’ll be able to go back to sleep.” He pressed his lips gently to her hair before laying back down. She took a second to watch him as he pulled his pillow closer underneath his head and settled himself. Her ever-present protector. She eased her tired body down next to him, positioning her swollen abdomen against her body pillow.

This most recent dream hadn’t been as ethereal as the rest, and as she settled herself for sleep, she recalled the images to her mind’s eye. She’d been seeing in first person, as if seated on a booth at a diner. She could see the ‘OPEN’ sign in reverse neon through the window, a haggard looking brunette likely in her 40s working behind a long counter. She could see that it was late, the worn restaurant nearly empty, save for an older gentleman seated at the counter, digging into what looked like a pot pie. There sat a half-eaten piece of key lime pie on the table in front of her next to a set of keys she’d never seen before but that she instinctively knew were hers. The whole scene felt familiar and she could believe it was an amalgamation of years spent on the road with Mulder, nights at dodgy hotels with meals shared in tiny run-down places like this at all hours of the night. Except she felt something unsettling about the whole thing – a pervasive anxiety mixed with loneliness that pulled at her soul. She tried to search for the source of the emotional turmoil but all she could come up with was abandonment. It had been at that moment she’d been released from the dream, drenched with sweat and a burgeoning headache. The further she was from the dream, the more the headache seemed to abate. She took a deep, soothing breath expelling out her worry over the odd scenario and its mix of feelings, and willed herself back to a peaceful sleep.

~~~

Before his eyes even opened, he could feel the heavy stare from the waitress. By the time he finally looked in her direction, she’d averted her eyes and the jaw that’d been slack a few moments ago had settled into a fine, firm line. _Weirdo_ , he could feel her say, turning around to tidy up the drink station. He chuckled a little at her response, she wasn’t wrong. He took one last bite of pie, grabbed his keys and rose from his seat at the booth. Pulling a few bills from his wallet, he deposited it on the counter and left without a single word. The cool September wind whipped at him once he’d stepped outside, lifting the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. The sign near the road told him he was near a junction, Topeka or Wichita. South or East. South would be warmer. _South would be safer_ , he thought to himself. _For everyone_ , he didn’t think that part, just felt it with all his being. “Especially now,” he added audibly as if carrying on a conversation with unknown ghosts around him. He kicked a stone and began walking to his car, thankful for the shelter from the wind.

“A sister,” he whispered to himself as he turned his key in the ignition. Overwhelmed with more than his share of self-loathing at the thought of her having to grow up anywhere in the vicinity of whatever it is that he was, he eased the car into nonexistent traffic and turned a futile blinker on. “Wichita it is.” His invasion into his mother’s mind for the first time in almost nine months had shown him one thing plainly, they were better off without him.  


	2. Unexpected Revelations

She still felt cold coming off her skin in waves in spite of her plush pink robe, slippers, and throw from the couch. She knew it was not her cold but it was real nonetheless, leaving goosebumps and raised hairs all over her body. The logical part of her brain told her it was a psychosomatic response to emotional stimuli, instinct told her it was something else entirely.

Her gut was currently fighting a battle with her memories and a series of out of place dreams that she could not seem to shake. It had been easy to pass them off as pregnancy dreams, warring hormones and maybe she could still—but another part of her, a tiny part afraid to hope, had reminded her that she had experienced this before.

After the second one had showed her a dark coastal part of the gulf, she had started writing them down; journaling every sight, every feeling that came with her dream journey. It was a private journal – her dream journal, filled with road markers, seedy hotel ceilings and so much loneliness.

Her dream tonight, she couldn't call it a vision—though Mulder would if she had told him, had left her feeling uneasy, with a deep sense of worry. She could close her eyes and see a rest stop before her, nearly deserted. She was in a car with a couple layers of clothes on and a blanket to keep out the chill from a broken heater and the February winter. _Running cars waste gas_ , she could almost hear him say. “Come home,” she had whispered just before the connection was broken and she found herself crying and cold in bed next to Mulder.

Now she sat, 3am trying to heat her entire body up, worrying about what had just transpired.

It was Jackson. She knew with every fiber of her being, whether it made any sense or not. He had lived. He was running, from danger or from them, she wasn’t entirely certain. Possibly both. He had reached out in the only way he knew how and suddenly with the realization, all of the sad, lonely fragments came together and she found herself grasping for breath and warmth. He was alive and wandering, he was all by himself with no one to turn to so he had found her always at night, perhaps afraid of how he'd affected her. Perhaps hoping to go unnoticed, sneaking around the recesses of her mind needing some tangible sense of familiarity.

She had spent months after that fateful day wishing that he would just show up. Her cycle of grief always brought her around to the fact that no body had been found. Just that of C. G. B. Spender – thankfully. She could hardly remember the words she had spoken to Mulder that day or any after it, and she latched onto the daughter growing inside her like an anchor. It forced her to accept that he was gone, this boy she had carried and loved, the child she had felt protective enough of to send away. The crashing reality that he was possibly alive felt like the real dream. It was in that same spirit of possibility that she decided to keep this to herself. Possibly alive, possibly purposefully avoiding them, possibly freezing to death on the side of a highway somewhere.

She had never bothered to tell Mulder Skinner’s theory on Jackson’s parentage. At first he had been so devastated by his death and then distracted by the impending birth of their daughter. She did not tell him that she had spent hours going over the PCR results of the DNA sample they had run on Jackson in Virginia. She did not tell him that she had ever questioned whether or not he was the father, because she truly hadn’t. He had felt the loss so succinctly that she wanted more than anything to shield him from any and all doubt, however short lived it may have been.

Until she had tangible proof that Jackson was still alive, she knew she couldn’t tell him. She was certain he would drop every part of their carefully crafted new routine and search for him, like he had last time. She was also certain that Jackson wasn’t ready to be found and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel cornered. Neither of them had spent any real time with their son, they didn’t know him and he didn’t know them. She had snippets of his psyche, flashes of his childhood, and the knowledge that he wanted to remain connected to her somehow. That was enough for her. For now.

A gentle cry broke through her musings and she glanced at the clock. 4:30, right on time. Her body temperature felt closer to normal and she shirked off the blankets as she rose to head for her daughter’s bedroom. She gently pushed the door open and padded over to the crib, leaning down to pick up the fussy infant. Pulling her close, she dropped a kiss to the soft scattered auburn hair breathing in deeply the sweet, soothing scent of her daughter. Pulling the belt of her robe free she carried her back to the over-sized cushioned chair in the corner of the room, freeing a breast and tenderly shushing the child as she went. Settling herself and pulling a pillow to rest under her arm she brought the greedy babe to feed.

Life with this four-month-old wonder had been nothing short of a challenging miracle, worlds apart from her experience with William. There were, however, certain similarities. She went through her entire first pregnancy alone, grieving the father of her child. They had been together through all the ups and downs of her pregnancy with Lily, but all the while grieving the loss of their son. Since the horrible night that she told him she was pregnant, a small glimmer of hope in the midst of untold pain, he had been by her side.

With the impending birth, the death of Spender, and the injuries to Skinner and Reyes, they had made the difficult decision to step down from the X-Files. Scully had gone back to teaching at Quantico and Mulder had begun writing again and readying the house for the baby. He had been there to dote on her every step of the way and even so, some days when she was bombarded by her grief, she felt his loss during her short time with their first child with a sharp and relentless clarity. She was so thankful for this chance to be a family, to get to experience it all together in relative safety but now that she knew Jackson was alive, it seemed incomplete.

He had been coming to her in dreams for about 5 months before he had ever actually spoken to her, but he did. He spoke to her to reassure her, but also to share the reality of his situation. He wanted her to know he was alive, that he was surviving. She took that as progress and hoped if she could rein in her exuberance maybe they could progress enough for him to feel like he could come home.


	3. Mutual Understanding

“Have you seen my notes for my forensics class?” Scully called, shuffling papers around the desk. She’d been going over them the day before and she could swear she’d looked everywhere. She was due at school in a couple hours and there were a few things she needed to adjust for her lecture. The response she heard only came in the form of footsteps on stairs and a gurgle of delight from Lily. Abandoning the plethora of article clippings and file folders worth of Mulder’s research, she checked and rechecked her briefcase, finding only her textbook, dream journal, her tablet, and a spare pacifier. She could hear Mulder and Lily coming down the stairs and he met her in the office doorway, necessary legal pad in hand. He waved it a little before handing it over.

“You were working on it before you fell asleep last night,” he said as he shifted the baby in his arms. “All this work is running your mommy ragged,” he whispered to the cooing 5-month-old in his arms. “Good thing she’s got us,” he added pulling Scully in for a hug and a kiss on her forehead.

She leaned her face to his, leaving a tender kiss on his lips before retreating into the office. “Thanks,” she added, placing the notebook in her briefcase and removing the unnecessary pacifier.

“While I’m reminding you of things,” he began, still at his place in the doorway, “you haven’t called Bill yet about Easter.” He heard an audible groan and did his best to hide his smile. “We don’t have to go, but it’s in 3 weeks.” Scully turned to face him, something akin to doom or dread shone through her carefully crafted control.

“I’ll call him later, but Mulder, I’m not going to Texas for Lily’s first Easter,” she almost whined, finishing it off with a sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her brother —scratch that. That was exactly it. Without their mother there to smooth things over, any time they’d spent together was awkward and tension filled. Not to mention that twenty-five years later and he still hadn’t made any progress with Mulder. “I just want a quiet Easter, as a family. Church in the morning, dinner, and just relaxing—”

“Don’t forget the egg hunt!” Mulder exclaimed proudly. 

“Mulder, Lily can’t even sit up unaided,” she protested but knew it was futile. He’d been planning this for weeks and he was so excited, she couldn’t rob him of the absolute joy she’d seen on his face when he first told her about the idea. “But we’ll take plenty of pictures and I’m sure she’ll love it,” she added graciously with a nod and a knowing smile.

She reached over to grab the strap of her bag and suddenly felt a sharp pulsing at her temples that caused her to gasp and double over. Her entire field of vision changed to a familiar scene, a well-lit tree-lined street, but it wasn’t the sight or the intrusion jarring her. It was the anguish, the raw and unadulterated sense of loss—tears instantly streaming down her face.

Mulder reacted in an instant, setting Lily in the play pen and grabbing Scully before she fell. He screamed her name but he wasn’t sure she could even hear him, terror filling his body, his heart thundering in his chest. Her eyes were slammed shut, one hand clutching at her chest, the other at her head while she silently cried. He pulled her over to the couch, noting that she kept her eyes pressed closed the whole way.

Scully could see the red doors; she could imagine his telescope in the upstairs window. She could feel moisture on her cheeks but she couldn’t tell if it was hers. “Jackson,” the word escaped her lips in a strangled sob. _Come home,_ she added wordlessly and she knew he heard it. “Please.”

Mulder’s eyes were wide, unbelieving. This wasn't like the previous episodes he was familiar with that had ended with her in the hospital, but he instinctively pulled his phone from his pocket, just in case. His thoughts were shifting quickly between the revelation that their son might actually be alive and concern for Scully. He held her close, one hand on  her head and the other gently stroking her arm. Whatever this was, he knew he needed to let her make this connection for as long as she could.

 _I—I can’t,_ Scully heard as plain as day, as though he was just sitting right next to her. “Jackson, please,” she pleaded, her voice thick and gentle. _I’m sorry—I just, can’t_ , was the last thing she heard before his eyes closed and she felt the car being shifted into gear. As quickly as the vision came it was over, but the sadness she felt wouldn’t recede. She felt safe in Mulder’s embrace. However, the pain she’d experienced was overwhelming and she put her arms around him, pulling him tighter while she cried. He whispered in her hair that she was safe, that he had her, that everything was going to be okay even through his own uncertainty.

**

When her tears dried and her anxious mind began to quiet, she leaned back from him, wiping the streaks from her face. Knowing that she was in no frame of mind to focus on a lecture and that an intense conversation was forthcoming she briefly texted her department head asking to cancel her classes for the day. She ran her hands through her hair, scooting back to look at an expectant Mulder, father of her children, love of her life—she braced herself.

“Is he alive?” The words escaped from his lips without consent as he studied her body language. The last few minutes had been harrowing for him, confusing; he’d been utterly terrified for her. Without knowing what she’d experienced, he assumed the knowledge of their son alive would at least be a balm and relief for whatever had transpired. Instead, she was schooling her features, evening out her breaths, and watching him warily. He knew this woman and it was plain to read that she’d expected this. Or at least wasn’t surprised by it. Her only response was a nod so he pressed, “Has this happened before? How long have you known?”

Scully folded her hands in front of her and took deep and grounding breath. “I’ve known for a little over a month, but he’d been reaching out to me long before I realized it was him.” Mulder sat back, stunned that she’d kept this from him.

“How—how didn’t you know?” She reached into her bag and handed him her journal. He began leafing through vivid descriptions of a lonely, unending road trip. There were a few sketches of the sights she’d seen, and paragraph upon paragraph about the sea of emotions she’d experienced to go along with it.

“They started out as just dreams, Mulder,” she assured him. “Almost indistinguishable from the other dreams I was having when I was pregnant. But there was something so…visceral about them, so I started writing them all down. He’s just been out there, driving around aimlessly—so afraid that he’s unwanted, feeling so unloved and unlovable,” her tears returned in full force. “I keep telling him to come home, I know he knows how much we love him.” He couldn't bear to see her hurting and he abandoned the book on the floor, hugging her to his chest. But she didn’t stop. “He’s not ready, and as much as I hate it, I do understand.” She leaned up to meet his eyes, her expression resolved but with a tinge of regret. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was afraid you’d run off after him. I want him to want to come to us.”

“Do you think he’ll come home?” She could hear the heartbreak in his voice and she reached up, her eyes misty, and laid her hand on his cheek. “Where is he?” It was like she was watching the wheels churn inside him, of course he’d want to go find him. He had a grown son that he hadn’t spent more than a couple days with and it had been entirely beyond his control. He didn’t get a say in Jackson’s adoption—didn’t get a say when his son’s life was on the line. Though he’d never said as much to her, she knew how heavily that weighed on him—all the missed years and time spent wondering what kind of life he’d led.

“I hope so,” she softly replied. “He’s in Norfolk and he’s hurting.” She felt him shift abruptly, sitting up straighter and she braced herself.

“Scully that’s hours away, we could—” the anxious excitement in his tone fell off in an instant when his hazel eyes met her tired blue. He ran his hand across the back of his neck in a tell of exasperation. He did hear her, but he’d waited so long for this. What if Jackson never came home. Home. The word struck him as an oddity. Jackson essentially didn’t have a home. They were practically strangers and he’d already lost the only family he’d really ever known. How could they expect him to just knock on their door or be willing to go with either of them if they just showed up. “You’re right. I just feel like we have so much to make up for.”

“He has to want to give us that chance,” Scully said sadly, cuddling into Mulder’s side. He held her for a long while, both resigned to a life without knowing their first born but hopeful, nonetheless.


	4. An Easter Surprise

“I know you didn’t want to go,” Scully said, clasping his hand on the gear shift before they left the car. “But thank you. It meant a lot to me to have you and Lily there with me.” Mulder fixed her with a winning smile, bringing his hand up to run along her jaw. He met her eyes and leaned in for a tender kiss, felt her smiling against his mouth and leaned their foreheads together.

“You know I’ll go anywhere with you,” he replied and was treated to a full sarcastic laugh from Scully which woke the sleeping baby behind them.

“I appreciate that, but all evidence to the contrary.” She laughed again, climbing out of the car to get Lily. “A quarter of a century later and I’m still following you” she retorted, leaning in and giving him a full smile. She reached in the rear of the car, unfastening the car seat as she went while he turned off the car. Closing the door behind her she paused, the warm April sun a pleasant divergence from a particularly frigid winter. Spring had arrived just in time for Easter and she couldn’t wait to relax as a family after dinner and Mulder’s sweet, if misguided, egg hunt.

She started to head for the house while Mulder turned off the engine and got out of the car, quickening his pace to come up beside them. “You did follow me, even when you probably shouldn’t have—but now I feel like we’re in this together.” They exchanged knowing glances while climbing up the stairs, him pulling out his keys but pausing before turning the lock. He ducked his lips close to her ear and said, “but Antarctica, Scully. I’ve literally followed you to the ends of the earth. Easter mass at church was nothing.” With that he pushed the door open and walked through, leaving her shaking her head behind him.

Hours later after dinner and Lily’s nap found them outside, Scully leaning against the bottom railing watching an exuberant Mulder prance around the yard with an entirely indifferent baby in his arms. He bounced her around the yard, an Easter basket draped over one arm, leaning down every few feet to pick up another brightly colored egg that he had boiled and dyed himself. She had her phone out and was alternating between photos and videos.

 _Fatherhood looked good on him_ , she told herself smiling wistfully at the scene before her. It was still pleasantly warm and the sun was just beginning it’s decent in the sky. Bright pinks and oranges were slowly seeping across the horizon and there was a light breeze causing the trees to dance off in the distance. In her distraction at the gorgeous day she had lost track of Mulder and Lily who had gone around toward the back of the house. She pushed off the railing, propelling herself in their direction not noticing the old beat up car that had begun an incredibly slow trip down their long drive. As she was about to turn the corner of the house she finally heard it as it stopped a little more than halfway up the drive.

She turned around as the owner of the car got out and she had to raise her hand to her eyes as the sun silhouetted the tall gangly visitor. Tears began to prickle at the corner of her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to take off in a run. The figure began to slowly walk in her direction and after taking a deep and necessary breath to ground her, she started toward him. She had no idea what she would say, what he would accept. Was he just stopping through or would he stay?

They both stopped a few feet apart from each other and she quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. He stood taller than her by at least a foot, jaw strong like Mulders and his eyes just a little more brown than his father's hazel ones. He had his hands in the pocket of a pair of purposefully worn and ragged jeans and he was shuffling his feet nervously.

Her heart was bursting and she wanted so much to just wrap her arms around him. Arms that hadn’t held him for almost 17 years. Arms he used to lay in to nurse, that soothed him when he was upset, that held him tight in hopes of protecting him from all the evils of the world. She took a hesitant step closer, and then another—a few tears careening down her face. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly, her words choked with emotion. She could sense that he doubted her a little but not from disbelief as much as self-loathing. No doubt Mulder had told her what he was capable of, but here he was, without pretense or disguise. He was fighting down his own emotions so she closed the gap between them and carefully laid her hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. The hurt and uncertainty she saw there crumbled any bit of resolve she had and moving slowly, giving him time to refuse, she put her hands around him, her head barely coming up to his chin. They stood for a few moments, her head on his chest, his hands still in his pockets and she was about to pull away when she felt his hands meet behind her, holding her close. Her breath caught in her throat and came out somewhere between an exhale and a sob. “I’ve missed you so much, and maybe that’s not fair to say, but I’ve always wanted you. Exactly as you are.”

“You sure about that?” He almost scoffed, trying to make a lighthearted joke through the tender reunion. “I’m kind of a monster.” She even chuckled a little at that one but she leaned back to look at him again, resting both her hands on his face.

“Haven’t you heard?” She jeered back, a smile that lit up even her eyes growing on her face. “Your father and I happen to have a knack for monsters, but I don’t think you fit the profile.” She took his hand in hers and gestured toward the house. “Come on.” They turned to head back down the drive and caught sight of Mulder staring, basket abandoned on the ground and Lily passed out in his arms. She'd seen Mulder cry a few times since she had known him but she could tell he was close, his jaw working overtime trying to keep his emotions in check. “Brace yourself,” she warned him with a smile in Mulder’s direction.

“I know this one,” Jackson laughed, apprehensively. “He’s a hugger.” Scully relinquished his hand as they got closer, carefully easing the sleeping baby from Mulder’s arms. As soon as they were free the anxious father threw his arms around the boy, who returned the hug. “Sorry if I scared you, you know, before.”

“None of that matters,” Mulder reassured him. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And that you’re here.” He held him for another minute and stepped back, clapping a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You hungry? We’ve got some left over Easter dinner.” Mulder pointed toward the porch, both he and Scully holding their breath hoping he would say yes. Hoping he would stay if not through college, then at least for dinner. Jackson looked from Mulder to Scully and he could see the anticipation in their eyes.

“I’m actually starving,” he answered with a full grin, revealing a deep set of dimples, and they set off for the house.

Later that night after they had put Lily down to sleep and made up a bed for Jackson in the guest room, Mulder and Scully laid awake in bed, overwhelmed.

“I wasn’t sure he would ever make it here,” Scully confessed softly, shifting a little to meet Mulder’s gaze. He tilted his head a little toward her and then the desire to comfort her pulled him to lay face to face with her, a hand resting on her hip. “I had hope; he gave me hope.”

“Even if he picks up tomorrow and leaves, I think we accomplished something today,” he started, tracing circles on her hip through the blanket. “No matter what he’s going through or how easy it is for him to run, he knows he has a place to call home. A family that has loved him his whole life.”

Scully could feel tears burning in her eyes, her constant companion on such an emotional day. “Even Lily was smitten,” she chuckled a little remember the way the girl grabbed hold of a full lock of their sons hair as she giggled and gurgled at him. “I hope he always remembers.”

“He will. And we’ll be right here to remind him,” he kissed her forehead, his hand sliding up so his thumb could trace her lips before briefly covering them with his own. He peppered her cheek with light kisses as he brought her in for an embrace. Getting to this point had taken so much time. Living and parenting together. They had had so many missteps along the way but from the very beginning it was inevitable. They were two very different sides of the same coin. As they snuggled together, the events and emotions of the day catching up to them, Scully smiled closing her eyes. She breathed in deeply the sense that the house and her heart finally felt whole.


End file.
